Moonlight
by Griffin of the Gates
Summary: ACI - Al Mualim asks Malik to do a task he might not be able to do.  Inspired by a picture; takes place before Altair goes after Robert de Sable for the first time and after he apologized.


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Author's Note: Another Assassin's Creed oneshot in response to my sudden obsession.

Thanks to doubleleaf of DA once more for inspiring another story with her picture "Moonlight"

(Copy this link without spaces into your url bar to see it - http:/doubleleaf .deviantart .com/gallery/?q=Moonlight#/d2dsb9g)

DISCLAIMER: ASSASSIN'S CREED DOES NOT BELONG TO ME...IF IT DID MALIK WOULD HAVE PWNED ALTAIR BY NOW.

* * *

**Moonlight**

Malik A-Sayf stared at the sleeping form of his brother. No not, Kadar, his brother by the red blood flowing in his veins. Nay, Altair was his brother by bond, a man he had known since a young age. A man whom he had watched grow, formed into a self-centered man who cared for no one. Now that man had been reborn, becoming a new man.

Once Malik thought he knew Altair. They were friends, destined to remain that way for life. They played together, trained together. They had even teased poor Kadar together. Now Malik could not even say he knew himself. What had he become? A cynical middle-aged Rafik who wanted no contact with the outer world? An member of the Brotherhood? Or a cripple who could never be what he had wanted to be?

The sword in his grip, a companion since his ascension in the Brotherhood, felt oddly cold. He did not want this weight in his remaining hand. How he wished it had not come to this. Why had fate turned its back on him and his brothers? Why did it pit him against his friend?

The death of his brother, the loss of his arm; all could be retraced to Altair. He had failed in Solomon's Temple and he had failed yet again. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, Malik gave his friend's face a cursory glance. Was that the flicker of an eyelid? Malik shook his head. No, it was his imagination.

_What have you done to anger the Master this time? _Malik wondered.

Nothing had been explained. Only a note that described the details of what was to be done. Not what had been done to reach this point. Altair's chest rose rhythmically, Malik forced his own breath to match. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

Malik raised his sword. He could wait no longer. He had a job to do, but once again his thoughts got away from him.

* * *

Altair stiffened when he saw Malik raise his blade. It was coming now. He could feel death upon him once again. He relaxed, closing his eyes completely. This was what he deserved. Kadar's death had been his fault. His friend's maiming had been his fault. The death of countless innocents since the discovery of Masayf, had been his fault. He deserved death's cold embrace. For good this time.

And who better to give it than the man who had lost everything because of him.

* * *

The Brotherhood respected the three tenets. The assassin had embraced them even more since his brother had died. Would killing his brother break any of them? The first tenet, 'Stay your blade from the blood of an innocent'.

Thoughts raged angrily through the Malik's brain. They were assassin's, there was no way any of them had claim to innocence. But that could be attributed to any of the Brotherhood. Altair had learned his lesson, he would never have killed another innocent, not on purpose. Malik moved on to the second. 'Hide in plain site'. The man couldn't help but smile weakly. Altair had never been subtle. He had definitely broken the second tenet more than once. But again, it was nothing to be killed over.

The third tenet echoed finally into Malik's brain. 'Never compromise the Brotherhood'. There was the underlying problem. Every decision they made, every person they killed was another reason for the Templars to attack them. Robert de Sable would be paranoid by now, ready to try anything to save himself. This definitely posed a threat to the Brotherhood.

Malik sighed and looked back to Altair. Cruelty was formed in the festering wound of rage. Once upon a time, the man had grown to hate the former Master Assassin. But now, things had changed again. Malik sighed, he was only trying to stall himself from what had to be done. Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad had been marked for death and Malik would be his executioner.

"Peace be upon you…," the man paused, "Brother,"

* * *

Altair's eyes blinked open a little. Why was Malik hesitating? He peeked through his hood, his eyes shadowed. Malik was poised over him, sword raised. But the man's hand was shaking. He looked pensive, as if he was trying to find some way out of this.

That was when his eyes fell on the feather and Altair felt his stomach muscles clench. This just wasn't Malik avenging his brother's death. This was an ordered assassination. Only one man could order such a thing. Al Mualim had order Altair to die.

Altair clenched his fists to try and keep from moving. If he moved, Malik would know he was awake. He would be forced to fight his friend. He would not hurt Malik, never again. He had failed the Grandmaster, he had heard too much.

Above him, Altair heard his friend's whispered good-byes and he clenched his eyes shut again. He thought he even felt a tear escape as he thought, _And upon you as well. _Then he braced himself for death.

* * *

Everything happened in the span of five seconds. Malik moved, his sword falling. His vision blurred and he faltered, stepping back. And the feather held in his sash, the feather to be covered in the blood of his friend, fell to the ground. Malik blinked, looking around.

A sigh of relief and confusion escaped his lips when he saw that Altair was unharmed. The blurriness returned and Malik quickly identified the source. He was crying, tears of betrayal slipping down his face. His sword point touched the ground, the feather beside it.

He felt something inside him break and the tears flowed even faster. What had he been thinking? Altair had apologized, had changed to make up for what he had done. Order or no orders, he would not kill Altair.

Malik bent over to pick up the feather and looked at Altair. He gasped when he saw that the brown eyes were staring back up at him. His friend had not been sleeping. The assassin straightened up, replacing the feather to his sash.

"How long have you been awake?

* * *

Altair did not feel the pain he expected. He heard a grunt and a sharp ping of metal as Malik's blade hit the floor. His eyes snapped open, curious as to what had happened. Malik had backed away, the feather forgotten on the ground. An accident, Altair was sure. He saw his friend move and watched as he bent down to pick up the feather.

That was when their eyes met and Altair felt his heart burst. Glittering teardrops adorned his friend's eyelids. He had been crying, he did not want to kill him. An order and nothing more. Relief filled him as he realized that his apology had been accepted.

He blinked and Malik's face disappeared. He heard his voice and sighed. Too late to lie now.

"I never slept,"

Malik did not reply. He stood stock still, watching. Altair did not move either, he waited for his friend to finish the job. But the silence went on.

Finally Altair forced himself to speak. "Kill me Malik, avenge your brother, avenge Kadar," the names rolled off his lips with bitterness. "Be quick now,"

Nothing but silence met his plea. Tears poured down Malik's face as his heart broke in two. He felt Altair's words like daggers in his soul. He could not kill his brother. Altair was the only one he had left. What would Kadar think of him if he killed his friend?

"Malik!" screamed Altair

"Kadar wouldn't want this!" was the pained reply.

Silence enveloped the room. Altair peered up at Malik and felt his own tears flow freely. Their eyes locked and Malik sighed. "Sleep Altair, I will not spill your blood this night,"

There was a pause before the assassin forced his body to relax again. "God keep you, Brother,"

Malik nodded. "You as well,"

And as Altair's eyes closed and sleep finally took his exhausted body, Malik felt tears pour down his face. Tomorrow he would question Al Mualim's orders. Tomorrow he might face the blade of another. Tonight, however, he would be still. Tonight, he would be at peace.


End file.
